


why were you digging? what did you bury?

by plaidcest



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek / Stiles - Freeform, M/M, alternate reality in which stiles is not with malia, and stiles actually cares about the fact that he killed people, and that there was a funeral for allison, because he's the kind of person who would god damnit, post S3B
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 18:26:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2478122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaidcest/pseuds/plaidcest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles hands shake when he wakes up. They shake as he grasps desperately at his cup of coffee in the morning, little drops of hot dark liquid spilling over the edge. His hands shake as he drives to school, and they shake as he sits in class. They shake as he goes to Allison’s funeral, and they shake anytime he sees anyone who knows what the hell he’s been through. They shake when he sees Melissa McCall in the grocery store, they shake when he sees his dad off to work. They shake when he sees Scott or Lydia in the hallways or outside in the parking lot.</p><p>It’s just… He’s always so cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	why were you digging? what did you bury?

**Author's Note:**

> Like Real People Do - Hozier 
> 
> ____________________________________________

Stiles hands shake when he wakes up. They shake as he grasps desperately at his cup of coffee in the morning, little drops of hot dark liquid spilling over the edge. His hands shake as he drives to school, and they shake as he sits in class. They shake as he goes to Allison’s funeral, and they shake anytime he sees anyone who knows what the hell he’s been through. They shake when he sees Melissa McCall in the grocery store, they shake when he sees his dad off to work. They shake when he sees Scott or Lydia in the hallways or outside in the parking lot.

He hides it from his friends as best he can, and for the most part he thinks he’s pretty successful. Thing is, there’s one person whom he’s never been able to hide anything from. Not from the first time their eyes had met in the woods on a cloudy day, Scott a newly turned werewolf looking for his inhaler because he hadn’t realized he’d stopped needing it.

It’s just… He’s always so cold.

He gets rid of all his old clothes. Even the expensive and online ordered Star Wars and other geeky themed shirts. He just can’t stand to even look at them, knowing someone else was in his body. Something evil touched everything he’s ever known and it’s like everything is poisoned. His dad doesn’t comment when he finds Stiles old clothes in bags for the thrift store, his bedding, and most of the random trinkets in Stiles room all gather in boxes and waiting outside by his Jeep. They don’t mention it, they don’t talk about it. Stilinski Rule; its less painful to just avoid pesky emotions and problems until it’s absolutely too late to shove them away.

Derek notices. His closet was halfway full after that day, with things neither he or his dad bought. And his bed had a new cover set in rich greens and a black pattern. He’s also taken to stopping by, going on patrols around town while they’re all in school and giving reports to Scott if he finds anything hinky. But he comes almost every day to check on Stiles. Stiles knows that’s all he’s doing. Derek doesn’t seem to be the type to just stop by for social visits. Stiles isn’t as mad as he should be about it. It kind of helps warm him up, knowing that Derek’s worried for him enough to check on him.

Today Stiles is sitting on the couch in some of his newest pajama clothes. Thick plaid flannel pants, thick socks wrapped in slippers, a Star Wars t-shirt he’d found at one of the many thrift stores around town, a thick plaid over-shirt and an even thicker sweater. There’s a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and covering his legs that he’s stationed beneath himself so he can huddle as tightly as possible.

The TV is on, and Stiles is situated to seem as if he is watching it but his eyes have been staring at the same spot on the wall for the last forty five minutes. It’s Saturday.

One second it seems like Stiles is alone in the house, the next a wild Derek Hale appears and is completely settled beside him on the couch; shoes off, leather jacket draped on one of the many coat hooks in the front entrance. He’s wearing a light gray shirt with long sleeves that have thumb holes and dark jeans. His socks are white.

He doesn’t say anything.

Stiles can feel Derek’s eyes on the side of his face, and only after ten minutes of him realizing that Derek is actually there does he turn his eyes to look back at the former alpha. Derek’s expression is calm, understanding and simple. Stiles likes that look on his face. Everyone left from those terrible weeks always seems to look at him like he’s something to be pitied. Something to be coddled and taken care of like he’s made of glass. It reminds him of how people treated him after his mother died. Stiles swallows thickly and feels his eyes fill with tears for the first time since he’s been himself.

“I killed them.” The words barely make it out of his throat, and they croak as if they’re trying to claw their way back down into his lungs and settle there to poison him from the inside out.

Derek doesn’t say anything, as if he knows that Stiles needs to finally let this all out. He doesn’t move from where he’s settled on the other side of the worn couch in the Stilinski household living room and the thought that Derek looks like he belongs there, like he should always be there beside Stiles, is a loud one that echoes throughout Stiles head and rattles between his ears all the way down to settle at the bottom of his ribs.

“I killed almost everyone at the station, I killed people who’d been there since before my mom had died, people who helped me with my math homework and taught me to play card games and how to lie my way out of any sticky situation. I killed Allison, and Aiden. And all those doctors and people in the hospital.” Stiles voice is thick with tears and his breath catches in places when he tries to breathe in. There are tears slowly rolling down his face from his eyes and his nose is running and Stiles doesn’t really care that he’s showing this weakness to Derek. He knows Derek understands. He shakes under the covers and his hands shake as they rub at his face ineffectively.

“Everyone looks at me like I’m about to snap. Like they’re waiting for the poor fragile human to break. And I got those looks back when mom died, and I’ve learned to ignore them. But I never once got one of those looks from Scott and now it’s like a slap to the face and my heart wants to explode right out of my chest so I just suddenly stop existing and don’t have to see it. I don’t want to go to school. It’s like I’m travelling on autopilot most of the time. I can’t seem to stop shaking and I’m cold enough that you could probably freeze fresh steaks if you stuck them against my skin, and the nightmares… The nightmares are getting worse.” His lower lip is trembling so bad that the last words are almost indistinguishable and he can’t see anything because his eyes are so blurred by tears. His entire body is shaking now and he doesn’t notice when Derek pulls away the covers and pulls him into his side, settling the covers over both of them.

He’s squished into Derek’s side, and Derek settles an arm over his shoulders easily with how hunched in on himself he is. He only notices one thing though; Derek is warm. Like warmer than simply warm. It’s like Derek is direct heat where Stiles is direct cold and Stiles leans unconsciously closer to the only heat he’s felt in months. Derek holds him tighter as he shivers and cries and tries to hold back sobs and it’s only when Derek leans his temple against the side of Stiles forehead does he let the sounds just leave his mouth.

Derek’s repaying the favor. That touch in his loft that helped ground him. That helped support him as the alpha’s left out the side with a few smug smiles and only a few backwards glances. He’s giving that support to Stiles now and it’s a wonder that this is even happening. Stiles thinks back to when he first saw Derek and how _angry_ he always seemed, how he refused to let anyone close.

Scott had tried to comfort Stiles before, had given him a hug and tried to get Stiles to talk about it. Stiles had endured it and then refused to let anyone close enough to touch him. Each time someone did it was like ice cold water was poured over his body and he was even more frozen than before.

Being close to Derek is having the opposite effect, and Stiles is desperate to warm up even a little bit. He’s got Derek’s shirt clutching tightly in his fingers.

He doesn’t know how long they sit there, under the blanket, as Stiles slowly begins to actually feel his extremities and doesn’t feel like his breath should be fogging up the air. Stiles notices his hands are only slightly shaking, as if his body is simply tired and not working against him. Stiles’ eyes have run dry and he can feel the stains his tears have left on his face.

Derek begins moving, gathering up the blanket as if he plans to throw it off himself and untangle himself from Stiles. Stiles’ entire body twitches roughly and he wraps his arms around Derek’s neck and buries his nose in Derek’s neck as he clings frantically to the werewolf. A noise of distress forms itself low in his throat and pushes its way out of his body with great urgency and Derek freezes. Stiles is now settled almost entirely in his lap, chest to chest, and clinging to him like a monkey. One of Derek’s hands comes to rest in the middle of Stiles back and pushes so Stiles is even closer to him.

Derek makes a noise that reassures Stiles enough for him to start breathing again. “I’m not leaving. I was just going to--”

“Don’t let me go.” Stiles mumbles into his neck, against the warm skin there that’s burning his nose. _“Please.”_

Derek is silent underneath him, but his heart and his breathing are even and steady and Stiles wants to curse at how thin his voice had sounded. How unveiled the desperation in his voice was. Derek wraps his other arm around Stiles and nudges his chin against Stiles’ temple.

“I was just going to get you something to eat. You always seem to forget.” His voice is soft, and there’s nothing judging woven into it. It’s completely clear of things Stiles was weary would be there. He relaxes at Derek’s words and he closes his eyes as he settles into Derek’s warmth easily.

There’s a light pressure on his temple and Stiles knows its Derek’s lips. The coldness that had tried to remain stubbornly clutched to his heart melted away with no resistance and for the first time in months Stiles could actually breathe.


End file.
